


Heaven Can Wait, We’re Only Watching the Skies

by russomaha



Category: Jupiter Ascending (2015)
Genre: Bodyguard, Dorks in Love, F/M, Fluff, Humor, My characters must hate me by now for all the UST, Starry starry night, The Perseids, Unresolved Sexual Tension, ambiance, atmosphere, bodyguard!Caine, meteor shower, the month of August
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-08-10
Updated: 2018-08-10
Packaged: 2019-06-25 11:09:47
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 4,286
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/15639531
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/russomaha/pseuds/russomaha
Summary: ...Now I’m waiting for something to fall from the skiesI’m waiting for love.





	Heaven Can Wait, We’re Only Watching the Skies

**Author's Note:**

> _This is a loose follow-up to[ **Rock My World**](https://archiveofourown.org/works/13878912/chapters/31931094); can be read as a stand-alone._

 

_…Now I’m waiting for something to fall from the skies_

_I’m waiting for love._

**It’s a Hard Life** _by_ **Queen**

 

August on Earth is a month of blushing apples, rust-coloured clusters of mountain-ash berries, drooping heavily off the branches, bright colorful stellate asters adorning gardens that are silently groaning from the heat and lack of water.

A month of late lightning bolts, late roses and late kisses.

A month of falling stars.

Ever since the times of ancient Rome August has been a month of royalty, too: it was named after Gaius Julius Caesar _Augustus_ , – which means _venerable_ in Latin, – probably the most renowned of terrsie emperors. His other name, _Caesar_ , evolved into a monarchic title in many languages, including Jupiter's mother tongue: Russian rulers, whether they realized it or not, were called _tsars_ and _tsaritsas_ in his honour.

Ever since Jupiter embraced her tsaritsa status, August is _her_ month.

At the end of a long, hot summer most plants are drooping, exhausted from the incessant heat and a continuous dry spell. The lack of rain has turned quite a few leaves prematurely yellow; there are some patches of dried-up grass here and there. With every gust of wind, birches are raining leaves fluttering through the air like golden butterflies and seeds shaped like tiny swallows. Only unlike the real birds that usually herald the beginning of summer, these ones presage the end of it. Nature is tired from the burst of life and growth during the vegetation season; it’s starting to wind down, preparing itself for the approaching respite of autumn.

In mid-August Stinger developed a sudden urge to visit Earth to collect honey from his hives – gods know what he plans to do with it; do he and Kiza actually feed on it? – leaving the bees enough time to replenish their stores to last them through the winter. Jupiter used it as an opportunity to take a break from queenly duties and wangled an invitation to come with them. Caine tagged along, because –

“Your Majesty, you never know when an enemy might strike.”

Personally, she thought he simply wanted a few days off in the company of friends, just like she did, but was too manly to admit it. Men can be funny like that.

So their motley crew of four descended onto the poor unsuspecting Apini’s farm. Upon arrival Stinger and Kiza immediately went to work; Caine had the imprudence to offer his help and has been enthusiastically exploited ever since. Jupiter halfheartedly volunteered, too, but Stinger was adamant in his refusal.

“Stay away from my apiary, Majesty,” he ordered gruffly. “I don’t want you to undermine my authority with my bees with those seductive royal pheromones of yours. They might pick up and leave for the alcazar with you if you spend too much time around them.”

Jupiter didn’t mind bees, but she certainly didn’t want her palace turned into a giant hive.

As a result, the queen was left to her own devices. She greatly appreciated her solitude along with the peace and quiet of the farm after the hustle and bustle of the royal court, where someone wanted something from her _every freaking moment_.

After a long, self-indulgent swim in the river, she settled in a hammock tied between two huge apple trees in the garden surrounding the house and has spent the day alternating between sleep and blissful heat-induced coma.

A strong smell of cider permeates the orchard, coming from innumerable windfalls carpeting the ground underneath the apple trees. Stinger doesn’t care about the fruit harvest: he only keeps the garden for his bees – the trees are only here to bloom, filling the air with a strong scent of roses in spring. It’s late, so the leafy treetops cast deep, dark shadows, creating cozy, if a bit mysterious ambiance – like an enchanted forest straight out of a fairytale.

Jupiter absent-mindedly sways in the hammock, lazily swats at mosquitoes (too bad that they, unlike bees, don’t recognize royal blood, or if they do, it only seems to allure the damned bloodsuckers more) and contemplates her many frustrations.

Namely, Caine.

Ever since he awkwardly backed out of the room with that ridiculous ‘I’m closer to a dog than I am to you’ statement, she’s been attempting to carefully convey that she is not opposed to xenophilia _quite_ that much. She’s tried every freaking trick in the book. She smiles – no, lights up like a Christmas tree; it’s embarrassing, really – whenever she sees him, – only to get a deferential bow and a hushed ‘Your Majesty’ in return. She alternates between wearing revealing dresses and skintight black leather outfits that look more like BDSM fetish than high fashion - his gaze firmly stays on her eye level, so all the hours of suffering in those uncomfortable pants have been in vain. On one or two occasions she’s even sauntered about sky-clad - he immediately turned to look away; now that was just plain cruel! She compliments him, – that gets her the delightfully pink ears and another of his mumbled ‘Your Majesties’, –  talks to him in a low, confiding voice (more of the pink ears) and even once has stooped so low as to engage in drunk flirting (that earned her the most mortifying morning after and not much else).

However, with all her attempts at flirting, Jupiter never touches Caine outside of their working relationship (i.e. his saving her from multiple murderous heirs to her empire - and it's been _a while_ since anyone attempted a kidnapping or an assassination; a bit longer and she'll start to think about those as _‘the good old times when Caine used to touch me’_ \- her loneliness is screwing with her head!), because there’s wooing, and there’s harassment. The line between the two concepts is vague and elusive; she doesn’t want to risk crossing it, so she plays it safe.

That said, she’s so tired of waiting for the moment when Caine sprouts an awareness and finally trusts that mighty nose of his, which must be sensing quite, um, _unambiguous_ signals whenever she is in his vicinity.

Or is he too dense to get her hints and thinks she smells _like that_ because of someone else?

Nah, not likely. She has been pretty obvious, save wearing a banner ‘Would you please just fuck me already?!’

Maybe he understands perfectly well what she wants from him. Maybe he’s simply not interested, but too polite – or too cautious – to tell the queen to piss off in no uncertain terms.

Maybe he enjoys the power he has over the sovereign and milks it for what it’s worth.

No, Caine is kinder than that, she _knows_ as much.

Maybe he’s not into sex. Then again, he’s a guy and all guys are into sex, right?

_Right?!_

If they’re not, her whole outlook on the world will be turned upside down. It’s, like, one of the basic axioms of existence: the sky is blue, the water is wet, and all guys love sex.

Maybe he’s just not into sex _with her_ and wants them to stay friends. She’s got friend-zoned and she’s not even aware of it! Next thing she knows he’ll be taking her out to eat sushi, do nails and talk girls. Or will it be guys?

Maybe it will be guys. The way he looks at Stinger sometimes – with so much dog-like devotion and glowing admiration in his eyes – comes off pre-e-etty suspicious. And what was it Kiza said about _male mating rituals_? Maybe it was her friend’s way to warn Jupiter off.

Oh, gods, if she has to take the rejection, please let it be for the latter reason! Because the idea of Caine and Stinger together is –

O-okay, moving on, before she lingers too much on the visual. August weather is hot enough as it is.

Maybe Caine’s not into humans. If, according to his own words, he’s closer to a dog than he is to her, maybe he’s more attracted to canines than hominids…

Now, that’s just depressing. Depressing _and_ yucky.

Gah, what if _she’s_ yucky to him? What if Caine views her as a cute puppy-eyed _pet_ trying to hump his leg? Trying to hump _him?!_ In that situation, there’s not much for him to do but keep her at an arm’s length while gently attempting to communicate that what she’s doing is inappropriate.

Like, _extremely_ inappropriate.

Which would actually explain his reserved behaviour pretty well.

The thought is _mortifying_.

Before Jupiter gets a chance to mortify herself into joining a nunnery, though, she is interrupted by the man in question.

“Your Majesty!”

“Gah!” Startled, she nearly falls out of the hammock, barely stopping herself from bursting, _‘I will not attempt to hump your leg anymore, I swear!’_

Although those legs are totally hump-worthy.

_Mind, the Super Nose of Doom is here; get yourself out of the gutter now!_

“Are you all right?” Caine asks, looking genuinely concerned. “I’m sorry I’ve made you jump.”

“I’m okay,” she confirms with as much dignity as she can master. _Just keep your legs away from me._ “Did you want something?”

_Me, preferably._

_Ugh, mind, clam it, pronto!_

It’s a good thing she didn’t linger on that image of Caine and Stinger in a compromising position, otherwise she herself would be mighty compromised right now, with the lycantant’s exceptionally keen sense of smell. Then again, Caine and Stinger –

_Mind, shut the fuck up!_

“There is a meteor shower tonight, Your Majesty. The Perseids. I thought you might like to see it.”

“Um, actually that sounds nice. As amazing as the universe looks from outer space, good old shooting stars are nothing to sniff at,” she responds, then adds enthusiastically, “Imagine how many wishes we’ll be able to make!”

At that, Caine smiles - and she has her first wish of the night fully formed: Caine should never stop smiling like that, _should never stop feeling like smiling like that._

“Stinger says we can take his truck. It’s better not use grav boots around here more than absolutely necessary. We don’t need any UFO loonies this close to his farm.”

“Stinger isn’t coming?”

Stinger. Coming.

_Mi-i-i-ind!!!_

She really needs to get laid. Maybe she should start looking for other options, if Caine’s unwilling.

“No, Your Majesty. Both he and Kiza said they’re fed up with stars.”

Jupiter nods, struggles out of the hammock much less gracefully than she would’ve preferred, and with a resigned sigh goes to follow Caine. When she reaches the truck, he is already sitting behind the wheel, leaving the passenger side for her. He still thinks he should do every little thing for ‘Her Majesty’, like she’s a toddler incapable of taking care of herself. And so does everyone else. At first, it felt nice to be pampered, but with time the cloying attendance has grown tiresome.

“Oh, no, you don’t!” She waves her hands, resolutely shooing the lycantant off the driver’s seat.

If the cruel fate denies her sexual satisfaction (at least, in the company of the person she wants), she will take pleasure in driving. Stinger’s truck is huge, slow and ancient, like a prehistoric beast and Jupiter loves it as much as its owner does. She turns the key and the battered rusty monster comes to life with a gratifying roar. She likes that she has to exert a considerable effort to make it comply: she has to use all her physical strength and add some body weight on top to turn the steering wheel when the car isn’t moving, she has to remember to keep the wheel a tad askew to make it go straightly forward, she has approximate her speed by sight, because the dashboard lighting doesn’t work so she can’t see the speedometer in the dark – and the engine does not appreciate going over fifty, – she has to be careful with the brakes because the first half of the pedal travel they do not hold and on the second they grip like crazy, halting the vehicle to a sudden stop.

However, Jupiter enjoys overcoming all those little challenges, as annoying as they are, because she actually _can_ overcome them, while with her queenly problems she feels utterly inadequate and helpless, and there is little hope that... No, she will not think about it tonight, she’s on vacation, damn it!

Jupiter wrestles the metal mastodont along the dirt road into the fields – ‘a road’ is too nice a name for this thing, it consists mostly of ruts and potholes – enjoying a much-needed feeling of having full control over something.

Caine is quiet by her side, so her mind automatically returns to her prior musings.

No, not the kind of musings that makes her worry about Caine’s acute olfaction.

Unfortunately.

After they first met, whenever she stayed alone with Caine her mind switched onto a constant loop, chanting _CaineCaineCainewantwantwant_ without a stop. Maybe that was the effect of mortal danger that is rumoured to enhance a person’s sexual urges, or maybe she was just permanently horny without any reason other than Caine himself.

Like anyone would _need_ another reason.

Now, Jupiter’s life has settled into a more mundane routine and the turbulence of her ascension has faded into nothing but a distant – albeit traumatic – memory. She feels much safer now and is much more involved with the actual governance of her kingdom, which takes up most of her time and doesn’t leave much room for entertainment. She’s grown used to Caine’s near-constant presence by her side – no longer a savior, but a guard – and her heart doesn’t stutter anymore whenever their eyes meet. They are no longer a princess in distress and a knight in shining armour. She is _Queen_ now, with all the responsibilities the title entails, and he keeps her safe not out of heroism but out of duty, and for a certain wage: when it boils down to it, they are an employer and an employee.

That sounds so much more boring.

 _Feels_  much more boring, too.

It doesn’t mean Jupiter’s lost her interest in Caine; she is simply tired of being alone.

In mid-August, the weather is stifling, yet evenings already grow perceptibly cooler, a fresh breeze bringing a much welcome relief after the stupefying heat of the day that turns intelligent people into brain-dead zombies. The autumn will be here soon, tugging in its tow grey overcast days, never-ending rains and cold weather. It’ll be nice to have a warm body to curl up against in her bed on a chilly night.

Besides, how long can she keep fucking inanimate objects? Is it a crime to want some _animation_ in her sex life? It doesn’t have to be some grand romantic thing. The one true love is stuff better left for fairytales and imaginary princesses, living in cloud castles off of pixie dust and unicorn farts. Time means nothing to them – their life is endless, as one of any myth; they can afford to wait for their princes for an indefinite amount of time.

She, on the other hand, cannot.

There is not pressuring the guy whose livelihood and very freedom depends on her, with him being a splice on Her Majesty’s service, and there is masochism – and not the fun kind, either.

After all, men differ, but all the dicks are pretty much the same; it doesn’t matter much which one to ride. That redhead lemur splice that was introduced to her by Stinger a few days ago, a newbie to the Royal Guard… He had a funny fluffy tail - long, with alternating white and ginger stripes - and startlingly blue eyes – the colour of a blooming flax field when it is suddenly revealed after you've surmounted the hilltop… What was his name? Chris? Clint? Clement? _Clitoris?_ Argh, who cares! He seemed like an extremely friendly, easy-going guy, unlike a certain someone with the apparent excess of stoicism in his system. A few inviting smiles, a bit of senseless small talk in a low-cut dress – and he’ll be hers.

Not _every_ guy gets a kick out of playing hard to get.

Because that certain someone is _certainly_ enjoying this game of cat-and-mouse. He ought to be; there’s only so much she can attribute to his being shy. Like hell he’s shy! Shy guys don’t initiate suicide rescue missions, they don’t threaten royalty with guns or fight sargons in hand-to-hand combat. They live peacefully in their parents’ basements and make angry YouTube videos bitching about chick flicks that have never been intended for their eyes in the first place.

“I think we’ve gotten far enough from the lights of the house, don’t you think?” Caine’s question jolts her out of her melancholic meditation. Great, she was obsessing over her horniness so much she didn’t even get to enjoy the ride!

Jupiter hits the brakes a bit too abruptly, – the truck bucks in protest – _Sorry, my gentle giant!_ – kills the engine, switching off the headlights, and they’re immediately plunged into vibrating, stridulating darkness. The air literally quivers with the choral singing of grasshoppers with the harsher, more distinctive ‘voices’ of crickets intertwining with it. With all the sounds coming from all around them the night feels like a living being.

The two sides of the road are lined with corn, taller than the truck is high. The dense wall of corn stems stretches forth and disappears into the night, rustling in the wind. The whispering of the corn forest seems mysterious and slightly eerie. The faint ghostly glow of the fireflies hiding in the grass – like tiny will-o’-the-wisps, mysterious and uncanny – only adds to the eldritch atmosphere of the night.

Jupiter hops out of the truck and lifts her head up.

The sky –

There are no words that would do justice to the glorious spectacle that stretches above her head – lit up only by the myriads of stars – humbling in its staggering immensity. No wonder ancient people thought that the sky was the abode of gods! The depth of it… It feels like with every passing moment that she peers into it, it grows deeper and deeper and deeper – all the while being infinite to start with.

The two of them have driven deep into the fields surrounding the Apinis’ farm, far away from any sources of light pollution that might be spoiling the view. There are no clouds tonight, so Jupiter can see _all_ the stars – so many of them it makes her head swim: her human brain fails to take in such a truly _cosmic_ amount.  It takes some time to realize that the stars are alive: their light is not a constant, boring luminance of your ordinary, prosaic light bulb, but an ever-changing flickering of a candle, – some of those ‘candles’ burning with the might of a thousand suns!

It’s only fair that gods sometimes throw a generous handful of meteors from heaven to grant the wishes of the mortals – the celestials have way too many stars while the earth-dwellers only have too many wishes that go unfulfilled.

Jupiter takes a shuddering breath – only to realize that she forgot to breathe the moment she looked up.

Okay, they’re definitely staying for a while here.

She dives back into the car to take an old blanket from the backseat – gods know why Stinger keeps it there – and resolutely spreads it on the hood. The metal is too hot from the engine, otherwise they’ll get their asses fried.

Why don’t they make themselves comfortable in the truck bed instead, you ask?

Because it’s _a bed_ , duh. She doesn’t want to get _too_ comfortable with Caine. With her almost certainly barking up the wrong tree – for one reason or another, – she’s promised to herself that she’ll stop humping the poor guy’s leg, so she will not be putting him in any ambiguous situations any longer. Enough is enough.

There is such thing as dignity, you know.

If she looks hard enough, she might even be able to find it in herself.

One day in the future.

Probably.

The hood takes her hopping onto it without a protest, but creaks ominously under Caine’s more considerable weight. She hopes it won’t dent – Stinger has strong nostalgic feelings towards the truck, despite being more than able to get a newer, fancier model. Hell, she offered to get him one as a gift, but he refused: he didn’t want a car, he wanted _this_ car.

As Caine’s warm side comes in contact with her bare arm – the hood is wide, but the lycantant’s likewise – she realizes that she fully understands Stinger. When you fall in love with something – or someone – no substitutes would ever make you fully satisfied. She leans into his side – ( _Where is that dignity you mentioned?_ – This is not humping, this is _leaning_ ; piss off, mind!) – propping her head against his shoulder, face tilted upwards.

“Your Majesty! Look, there’s a falling star! Oh, it’s gone already…” He sounds as desolately disappointed as only little kids can be. Well, little kids and huge grown-ass lycantant splices, apparently.

“You haven’t managed to make a wish?”

 Even if he hasn’t, she’ll do her best to make it happen for him – there are very few things she cannot do now.

“Uh, I haven’t tried, really. I wanted the first wish to be yours.”

His tone holds no deferential distance but old-fashioned gallantry:  offering her the antecedence, he’s not a courtier afraid to breach the hierarchy in fear of displeasing the monarch, he is a gentleman who holds a door for a lady to pass through; he’s one who cares enough to put her wishes first.

 “You may use all my stars for your wishes, Caine.”

Like she would keep her stars from him!

_…her anything from him._

“What if _your_ wishes won’t come true, then, Your Majesty?”

Peering up into the sky, Jupiter cannot see Caine, yet she hears a concerned frown in his voice. No matter where they are, no matter what they do, his first thought is always of her.

How can she want anything _more_ from him?

_Is anyone capable of giving more?_

She smiles and answers, in all honesty –

“All of them already have.”

“That means that this is useless? Me bringing you here?”

_You had a long, exhausting day of work – out in the sun, with stinging bees around you, all covered in disgustingly sticky honey. Yet after all of that, you chose not to rest, but to bring me out here to show me something beautiful. How can that ever be considered useless?!_

“The night is amazing as it is,” she replies. “I don’t need anything more – _tangible_ to enjoy it.”

Like having her wishes materialized.

Like having sex.

“So you're enjoying it?”

“Of course I am!”

“In that case, I have nothing left to wish for, either,” he comments quietly.

His words flood her with warmth – the kind that cannot be felt by the skin, but only by the soul. Her heart stumbles, twitches a few times like a bird caught by a pair of hands – _your hands, Caine!_ – and melts into a pool of hopelessly, atrociously sentimental goo.

Oh, whom is she kidding?! She’ll wait for him forever, or at least until he flat-out tells her, ‘Sorry, Jupiter, not into you. Like dicks better.’ Then they’ll become best girlfriends (with the inclusion of Kiza, of course) and gossip about Chris, making bets who’ll bag him first.

All in all, not such bad a future.

And the present isn’t that bad, either. The weird mixture of professional symbiosis and tentative friendship they have going feels actually quite good. In Jupiter’s new reality where she never knows who is a friend and who is a foe, or when the danger will hit next and where it will come from, it’s nice to have a person she knows she can fully trust. Admittedly, things would be much easier if the person in question wasn’t this attractive, but her life has never been easy.

Being satisfied with what you have is a great art of living; it’s about time she started mastering it.

With the magic splendour of the night surrounding her, under the wide-open sky that sucks you in with the sheer endlessness of it, and Caine right next to her, his warmth seeping into her skin, delicious on the cool night of the late summer, while she watches meteors spark and shoot across the glittering blackness it’s not that difficult to get lost in the beauty of the moment.

Maybe one day it’ll dawn on Caine that he wants something else from her and, more importantly, that he is ready to embrace that wanting. If he needs time to build up his confidence, to learn that he is more to her than a passing fancy of a whimsical royal, than he actually _means something_ to her – he is entitled to it. She knows deep within her heart that they both would be much better off together, but she’s not going to force her persuasion on him until he realizes it himself in the course of a natural progression of things.

One night, she might make love to him in the bed of the decrepit truck while the stars wrench out of the skies to fall around them.

But that can wait.

 _She_ can wait – they have their whole lives ahead of them.

No matter how long they will have lived, they’ll _always_ have their whole lives ahead of them.

Until that night comes, they might as well enjoy the moment. This one, or any other they may get to have together.

Life is an endless string of moments, after all.

 

 

 _Wanna find out how she knows thatCaine is kinder than that? Check out [**The Crown Jewel**](https://archiveofourown.org/works/13664595) and [**Rock My World**](https://archiveofourown.org/works/13878912/chapters/31931094)_.

**Author's Note:**

> _Inspired by the poem ‘August – asters…’ by Marina Tsvetaeva and the real-life meteor shower called the Perseids that can be observed in the Nothern Hemisphere around mid-August._
> 
> _The story title is a lyric from the song **Forever Young** by **Alphaville**._  
> 
> _You might like to check out the video to It’s a Hard Life song (the one I used in the epigraph); it’s a visual feast! Not quite as grand as shooting stars, but still._  
> 
> _In my personal opinion, this story is complete as it is, so I’ve marked it as such, but the characters just wouldn’t shut up! So I’ll be adding an alternate ending to this, posting it as two additional chapters. If you’re interested, keep an eye on my updates._


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